


found me right next to you

by holtzmanns



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, a miracle, holtzmanns writing boy fic again? what is this, ish, quarantine sort of, this for u blackhighheels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23990419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holtzmanns/pseuds/holtzmanns
Summary: Brock’s own face pulls into the smile that is inevitable with Jose, his stomach lighter than it has been in awhile.Brock doesn’t get it, but he supposes there’s no point in fighting it. He can just enjoy it, and talk to Jose because it’s nice, because it makes him feel happy and clearly Jose doesn’t mind, either.It doesn’t have to mean anything.Brock just likes it.
Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo
Comments: 24
Kudos: 55





	found me right next to you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackhighheels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackhighheels/gifts).



> Back at it again with the oneshots! This one's been sitting in my google docs unfinished for weeks, but blackhighheels challenged me to finish it if they published their most recent quarantine fic. So, here it is. Hope you enjoy it! Thank you for the continued love that you all continue to send my fics, it makes me so happy. And a huge thank you to Writ for betaing this and also being the best hypeman to ever exist.
> 
> Title from 'Ritual' by Wrabel.

Maybe it’s the quarantine. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s only had his cats for company. 

Not that Brock really minds it much. Henry and Apollo have been sticking to his side the entire time and it’s nice, having the chance to cuddle them for more than just an evening between connecting flights out of Nashville. 

Brock isn’t a homebody, not really - he’s so used to utilizing all the resources he can to ensure that he’s maximizing his engagement with the public, taking every opportunity that is worthy while flying around the globe and making sure that everyone knows who Brooke Lynn Hytes is. He’s crafted a career that’s catered to him and will take him higher and higher - at least, that’s the plan. 

Except now he’s at home because it makes the most sense and it’s the safest thing to do and there’s no way he can take a flight right now, anyway. Being in this apartment makes Brock feel like the present time could easily be the months after Continental instead, back when he’d moved to Nashville and had started working at Play. Waking up and going to sleep and doing it all over again while still being at his home base makes Brock realize how much has changed since then. Because even though this isn’t his regular routine, it’s nice to have the reminder that he’s actually done something with himself. 

But such an extended period of time without the noise of his gigs, without the jam-packed schedule that keeps his brain in go mode has given him time to stop. Time to think. Along with more time to actually breathe for a second, and not having to worry about having to focus on where he has to go, what obligations there are for him to fulfil next. 

It’s strange, not having to live thirty minutes ahead of schedule the way he normally does. Time almost feels unreal, unimportant - a sensation that Brock hasn’t experienced before. 

It means more time on his phone, more time going through his camera roll and passing selfies that Courtney has taken on his phone, pictures of Steve sleepily eating a breakfast burrito at the airport. Endless pictures of Henry and Apollo because he’ll never have enough. It also means more time scrolling through Instagram, catching up on his feed because he doesn’t really have anything of his own to post, unless it’s his cats. 

Seth texts him and asks if he’s in Toronto and Brock doesn’t really feel a pang of regret in his stomach when he says no. 

He passes ads from fellow queens about online streamed shows and some other videos of them going stir crazy at home, and bites his lip when he sees posts from the local queens who are struggling. He knows the feeling. He’s glad it’s not him, but he remembers it. Wants to make it better for them. 

Brock scrolls past posts from Jose but they don’t stop his heart as much as he expects them to because everything is familiar - how can it not be, when they’ve started texting again?

Sure, it’s all cat related. Jose asks him questions related to Thackery and it makes sense, because Brooke has been a cat dad forever and of course Jose wants advice. Brock had helped to pick Thackery's name, after all. And he loves all the pictures that Jose sends him of Thackery, the daily stories of all the funny things that he does because they’re all adorable, and because Brock tells Jose stories of Henry and Apollo, too. And now Jose gets it, understands him on a different level. 

Jose interrupts Brock’s scrolling with a picture of Thackery perched on along his shoulder blades while he’s lying on his stomach, and he’s all soft with his hair growing out in curls and his eyes all kind, the way they always are when he’s not tired. Jose winks at the camera and the curl in Brock’s stomach doesn’t mean anything. 

_JC: he gets annoyed if I try and move him_

_JC: this wack ass cat_

_BH: you secretly love it, don’t lie_

_JC: maybe so_

_JC: he weighs nothing_

_JC: my heels weigh more than him_

_BH: he’d be tiny next to Henry and Apollo_

_JC: bishhhh we gotta make them meet!!!!!_

_JC: when we allowed out again_

_JC: I’m going stir crazy lol_

_BH: maybe when I get to see the Vegas show I’ll bring them with me_

_JC: stop getting my hopes up like that dumbass_

_BH: promise I’ll come watch and bring the cats_

_JC: you wouldn’t bring them travelling_

_BH: so you’ll have to bring Thackery here, then_

Jose’s typing for long enough that Brock puts his phone down, starts petting Henry and gives him a little kiss on the top of his head, but then Brock’s FaceTime starts to ring. Jose’s face pops up on screen and he’s looking at Brock with the eyebrow raise that’s reserved specifically for him. 

“Nerve, is what your ass has.” Jose tuts, and the sound makes Thackery scamper closer to him, his grey fur blocking Jose’s camera. 

“God, he’s so cute. I wanna meet him so bad.” Brock has a cat weakness, everyone knows that. But he can’t help it, not when Thackery’s squished little face is so adorable. 

“Gotta pay for a meet and greet. He ain’t free.” Jose scoops Thackery up into his arms, snuggles him close and Brock wishes he had the ability to travel through the screen. 

“Yeah? What are you charging?” Henry climbs off of his lap and Brock feels the sudden chill, shuffles lower on his couch so he can grab the spare blanket. 

Jose purses his lips. “I dunno if you can pay.” But his eyes are twinkling, a smile on his lips. 

“Guess I’ll be missing out, then.” Brock’s own face pulls into the smile that is inevitable with Jose, his stomach lighter than it has been in awhile. 

Brock doesn’t get it, but he supposes there’s no point in fighting it. He can just enjoy it, and talk to Jose because it’s nice, because it makes him feel happy and clearly Jose doesn’t mind, either. 

It doesn’t have to mean anything.

Brock just likes it. 

Jose picks his phone up with one hand, Thackery in the other and plops down on his bed, the room still so familiar to Brock despite the new painting on the wall, the sheets on the bed that he doesn’t remember. “How you keeping yourself occupied while we all in prison at home?” 

Brock shrugs. “Mostly wading through my emails, they’re a mess. Trying to work out here and there, though that feels fruitless.”

“Gonna get all swole, Toes?”

Brock snorts. “As if. I’m not Kameron, I don’t have that level of dedication. I’m good with staying toned.”

“You used to look great to me.” Now Jose’s the one bringing them back there, that weird line that they both like to cross over, as if they don’t have boundaries between them. 

“Used to, huh?”

Jose rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean. My ass is tryna compliment you and you’re mouthing off already.”

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.” 

Brock knows that Jose does, because that’s why it’s so fun with him. That’s why they’ve started to FaceTime so much, because he’s missed the way he gets to wind Jose up a little.

And maybe he has a little smile on his face every time that he hangs up after a call from Jose, because even if they’re not physically in the same place, he always feels a little lighter, a little happier after time with him. 

* * *

Brock’s kitchen looks like it’s been hit by some drag tornado, from the old shake and go wigs hanging off of the handles of his cupboards to his baby queen outfits that _definitely_ don’t fit him anymore. 

Quarantine brings out quite a few sides of Brock, including, apparently, a deep cleaner. Though now everything is beginning to look more chaotic than not, and Brock wonders how on earth he had gotten everything to fit inside the storage boxes in the first place.

His phone rings with Jose’s contact popping up on FaceTime, and he swipes to accept it without a second thought. Jose’s curls are hidden under a beanie and Brock wishes that he could reach through the camera, pull the hat off and ruffle his hair.

“Thackery missed you.” Jose holds his kitten up, who looks as if he’s already grown since their last call a few days ago. 

Brock grins. “Thackery did, huh?”

“Mhm. Made me call you and everything.” Jose clicks his tongue, shrugs even as his eyes gleam.

Maybe, just maybe, Brock knows that it’s not just Thackery, not Thackery at all. Maybe it’s the little smile that Jose’s trying to keep back, the way Jose’s fingers are tapping on the table in front of him. 

But then Jose’s brows knit, and he’s leaning closer in towards the screen and Brock can’t help but feel self conscious and want to pull back a little, because what’s Jose looking at?

“Why the hell are there shoes hanging from the handle of your fridge?”

Oh, yeah.

Brock has to stifle a laugh. “In the process of cleaning out all my old drag. Figured it would be best to get out everything and sort through it.”

“Chile…” Jose lets out a slow whistle. “You gone and messed up. That’s gonna take you years to clean up.”

“Good thing I have you for company while I do so then, huh?”

“Does this make me a judge on Project Runway or some shit? Do I get to judge your outfits?” 

Brock holds up a rather unfortunate leopard print jumpsuit from his baby queen days, which wouldn’t be as appalling if it wasn’t green and purple. “Judge away.” 

Jose physically recoils, pulling back from the screen. “You’re telling me you’ve worn that in public?”

“Shut up.” Brock snorts, placing it in his ‘toss’ pile. “It worked at the time.”

“I’m sure it did, what, in 2003?” Jose giggles the way he always does when he can’t hold himself back, when he’s excited by his roasts, and Brock makes a face.

“I’m not that much of a drag grandma!” But it’s no use, because Jose’s cracking up even harder, and so Brock sticks his tongue out at him like the twelve year old he is. “I got better outfits, I swear.”

“Pull ‘em out. Maybe model them too.”

“With no mug or any padding?” Brock raises an eyebrow.

Jose hides his laugh behind his hand. “Fashion.”

Brock can’t help but join in at that. “You’re so stupid.” 

“And yet you love it.” It’s so natural, the way Jose says it, that Brock nods along, almost doesn’t realize the implications. 

If there even are any implications. 

With Jose, he just doesn’t know anymore. 

* * *

“You find a place yet or what?” Jose’s question makes Brock wince, because it’s another reminder of the fact that he’s moving across the country without everything exactly in place like he needs it to be. 

“Sort of.” Brock manages as he closes off yet another box with packing tape. “It’s not available ‘til April fifteenth, though.”

He’s going to have two weeks of managing his entire life in boxes, stacked in the corner of Bianca’s old apartment that she’s letting him stay in. He wants to get to his own apartment already, unpack everything and spread out the way that he deserves to, the way that Nashville doesn’t necessarily let him do so. 

It had been a no brainer when Brock’s contract came up with his landlord, because signing his life away in Nashville for another year until next March is the last thing he wants to do. He’s been in Nashville for work, because it’s given a kickstart to his career but he’s already outgrown it. He wants more, he wants to be away from the south and closer to his friends and sunshine and beaches and-

“I know you. You’re freaking out about that, aren’t you? About the dates not lining up?”

Jose knows him too well.

“I’m not freaking out. Not really.” Okay, maybe Brock is, but he doesn’t need to show that. It’s just annoying when he can’t have everything under his control, with every last detail figured out to make sure that things happen as planned. 

“Think of it this way. You’re not gonna be stuck in yeehaw-land anymore. That in itself? A cause for celebration.” Jose tips an imaginary cowboy hat and Brock’s not sure why it’s as funny as it is.

“Yeehaw-land? Nashville’s plenty progressive, y’know. All the gays live here.”

“All the yeehaw gays. Speaking of yeehaw gays, even Kameron’s left and come to LA. It’s about time your ass followed.” 

“Why, you miss me?” Brock looks up at the camera, sees Jose’s indignant face but also the red on his cheeks. 

“No. Only a little.” Jose’s lower lip is pushed out in the slightest pout but just enough for Brock to catch.

“Then I miss you only a little, too.” Brock waits for Jose’s telltale offended gasp, and it arrives right on cue as he stacks the boxes near his front door.

“Only a little? Bitch-”

“You said you miss me only a little, too!” Brock walks back to his phone and the crossed arms, the pout on Jose’s face makes him crack up. He’s so easy. 

“You know what I meant.” Jose huffs, and Brock loves it, he really does. “So. Where you gonna stay ‘til the fifteenth, then?”

Brock doesn’t miss a beat. “What, are you inviting me to yours?”

“No-I wasn’t-I’m gonna whoop your ass.” Jose grumbles. “Just for that, you can’t stay here anyway.” 

“No worries. Bianca’s got an empty pad. I’m crashing there.” If Brock hears a _hmph_ from Jose, he ignores it. “Rooming with you would be fun, though.”

“Fun? You’re the messiest person to exist. My living room’s gonna be run over with your stuff the second you step in here.”

Brock can’t even deny it, because Jose is right. “I always cleaned up after myself though, didn’t I?”

“Only whenever you left.” 

So maybe that stings more than Brock wants it to.

It’s easy to pretend like the last year has never happened, that they’re just friends and casual friends at that, that they get along easily and there’s no weird history behind the two of them at all. Except that there is, and no ignoring the elephant in the room is ever going to change it, not when neither of them can resist poking the elephant from time to time, just to see what will happen.

Brock wonders if things will change in LA. Because they’ll be within a drive of each other, not a plane ride away, because the excuse of distance won’t really apply anymore. 

Well, once the pandemic is over.

* * *

The pandemic isn’t over, but Brock’s finally moved into his own place and begun to unpack his boxes and is already getting a bit of a tan from the California sun, and he feels better than he has in ages.

Henry and Apollo aren’t as traumatized by the move as Brock expected them to be, something he’s grateful for. They’re curling up on his sofa under a ray of sunlight as if they’re meant to be there and Brock supposes that maybe they are, that they all are. 

He opens up FaceTime to call Jose as he finishes throwing the last of the empty boxes in his closet, because why wait to give Jose a tour of his new place when he has nothing else to do? 

Jose picks up on the first ring as he always does, like Brock is used to him doing so. He’s holding up Thackery to the camera because he knows Brock’s weaknesses, and Brock can’t help the little _aww_ that leaves his lips, not when Thackery’s sniffing the screen with interest.

“Officially moved in.” Brock grins as he says it, because he has his place, he’s home. His new home. 

“That two weeks at Bianca’s wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jose lifts Thackery to sit up on his shoulder, and it amazes Brock how the cat doesn’t immediately fall off.

Brock falls onto his own couch with a sigh, squinting into the camera when the sunlight shines on his face. “Nah. But it’s nice to be done.”

“Now that you’re mostly unpacked and shit, it’s time.” Jose’s voice is suddenly all business and Brock raises an eyebrow.

“Time for what?” 

“To steam clean my carpet. No, to meet Thackery, dumbass.” Jose reaches behind himself, scratches Thackery’s head, and Brock can’t resist the soft expression his face falls into. 

But he can’t. “Did you forget the fact that we’re all supposed to be at home right now?”

Jose doesn’t miss a beat. “And? You just moved across the country, Miss Thing. That’s not staying home.”

“I mean, I’m technically home now.” Brock knows his argument is weak, and Jose does too, from the look that he throws at him on camera.

“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

“What if I accidentally give you the coronavirus or something? Maybe I’m carrying it from all the travelling. I don’t wanna be the reason you end up in the hospital.” Sure, it’s far fetched, but who knows, really? What if meeting up really is dangerous?

Except Jose pays no attention, letting out a snort. “Listen to yourself. Besides, if I get Miss Rona, I’m also gonna get you to nurse me back to health. So it’s a win-win.”

“You think I’m gonna play nurse for you?” 

“I _know_ you’re gonna play nurse for me.” Jose grabs Thackery, holds him up to the camera. “Look. Thackery’s even crying a little ‘cause you won’t visit him. You wanna make my cat all sad?”

Brock lets out a laugh. “Now you’re being ridiculous.” 

“You’re making this newborn baby cry, that’s what’s ridiculous. Now come see him. When’s the last time you had some human contact in person, anyway?” 

“I had movers help me yesterday.” Brock offers, but he knows it’s a weak defense.

It makes Brock weigh his options after he hangs up, ping pong them back and forth in his brain. He’s the kind of person who blooms in solitude, who finds the lack of interaction restful because his brain needs the time off. So quarantine has been helpful, really, in giving him that downtime, the opportunity to stop thinking every minute of the day and following his schedule down to the second. His biggest obligation has been feeding his cats and occasionally himself, too, a far cry from what he’d been doing a few months ago. 

But as nice as it is, it has been a long time. Especially when the last ones to cuddle him were his own cats. 

He’s only one person, so what harm could going to Jose’s do, anyway? Except that they’re not supposed to, they’re supposed to stay home, and what if Brock messes things up for everyone else by visiting Jose?

But he’s also now moved across the country, which definitely hasn’t helped by any means. So what will a measly visit to Jose’s house really do, anyway?

Besides, Brock misses him.

Brock’s phone buzzes, and it’s a picture of Jose with Thackery on his lap, mid meow. Brock wonders if he really has a choice in the matter.

He’ll stay in Jose’s front doorway, maybe, not come inside. He’ll keep a six feet distance. He’ll be socially conscious as he should be. 

* * *

Jose’s bed is as comfy as Brock remembers it to be. 

He’d been planning on staying in Jose’s entrance and keeping his jacket on and leaving after five minutes, really, he had. But then Jose had thrown himself onto Brock in a hug and buried his face against his chest and Brock couldn’t help but squeeze him tighter because he’d missed him. 

And what’s the point of staying six feet apart now, anyway?

Brock’s back on his side of the bed and Jose isn’t beside him because he’s gone to make some popcorn in the microwave, so he’s scrolling through his Instagram. There’s a picture hanging on Jose’s wall that hadn’t been there before, and he’s changed the organization of his makeup on his vanity mirror. But everything else is the same - the drag tucked in Jose’s closet, the curtains along the window that always let the light in when the sun rises, the pictures on Jose’s dresser that he has of Alexis and his mom and his friends back in Tampa and-

Jose’s put a picture of the two of them up, too. The one where Jose’s resting his head on his lap and they’re in the backseat of an Uber enjoying Chicago together, alone for the first time in what back then had felt like months. It’s the same photo that Brock still has in his ‘favourites’ album on his phone, because he’s never gotten around to removing it. Not that he ever will. 

The way his heart flips doesn’t mean anything, because it’s just normal with Jose, that’s all. Jose always makes Brock smile and makes him happy and maybe a little tentative but that’s their status quo, it’s what he expects with him. 

It’s just nice to see that Brock’s up there for Jose with everyone else, too. 

One of the younger local queens from Toronto is on Instagram Live, and Jose’s still in the kitchen, so Brock clicks on her profile because he wants to get to know the newer ones a little bit better. Miss Fiercalicious is exactly how Brock remembers her from whenever he’d gone back to visit last, and it’s fun, shooting the shit about straight celebrities that they’d like to put in drag, especially when Jose pops his head in the doorway. 

“What about Troye Sivan? I’d wanna make him over.” 

Brock’s not sure if Jose’s voice is loud enough to carry over the microphone, or if they should even show that they’re hanging out, but he can’t resist a snort. “Troye Sivan is _not_ straight.” 

Jose’s walking over with Thackery after dropping the bowl of popcorn on his dresser and maybe things don’t matter anymore, maybe Brock doesn’t really care about the implications of what could happen because he turns the camera towards Jose, gives the phone to him. 

Except it’s hard to talk when Brock’s brain is mush, when Jose’s grinning like that and dropping Thackery on his lap, when the queens on their screen are confused but excited as hell. What words matter, anyway, when Jose’s plopping himself down on the bed beside him as if no time has passed at all, curling into his side and fitting perfectly?

He ends the livestream and Jose is looking up at him with an eyebrow raised, a silent question that Brock doesn’t know how to answer. So he just shrugs, tugs his arm around Jose in a little bit tighter. 

They don’t have to figure everything out now, not when they have seemingly endless time ahead of them. But somehow, this feeling of coming home is exactly what Brock has needed, and one that he doesn’t want to let go. 

**Author's Note:**

> as always find me at @plastiquetiaras on tumblr!


End file.
